Page 7 of Wicked Christmas Eve

5

“Miss?” His voice had grown sharper and I jerked in his direction. It was then I finally dared to look at him. His face I meant. Not his body…or the belt.

“Cyrus Jackson.” The name blurted from my lips before I could stop them.

Oh My God.

His body jerked and for a moment time not only stood still, it shoved me back into the past. Big, bad Cyrus, the hottest guy in town and the main attraction in all of my teenage and adult fantasies stood in front of me giving me a hard, assessing look that almost made me bolt. At least I thought about it anyways, but I wasn't kidding about the frozen part.

At first he said nothing, simply scanned me from head to toe and back again. Heat crawled up my skin the longer he stared. Embarrassed and slightly horrified at my reaction, I broke eye contact and stared down at my shoes.

“Do I know you?”

Oh God. He didn’t recognize me.

Just like old times. But that was a good thing, right?

Back in high school it had seemed most days he didn’t have a clue who I was. The fact I’d fallen madly in crush the first day I’d laid eyes on him hadn’t helped. It had taken an enormous amount of willpower not to follow him around like a lovesick puppy.

Until the night of our high school graduation party. My best friend Angie had hosted it after convincing her dad to allow it. They had one of the biggest houses in town and it sat right on the river. With acres of land, a swimming pool the size of a lake and a tennis court to make any champ preen, it had been the perfect location.

Also as it turned out the perfect night for a party because Cyrus Jackson had finally noticed me.

“Sort of. I mean, not really,” I answered, despite the knot forming in my throat making it difficult to talk.

Over ten years had gone by since then and we hadn’t seen each other since. He’d left for the Army the next day and after nearly seven months of waiting to hear from him, I gave up and went back to school with nothing more than the burned in memory of what it felt like to have Cyrus Jackson, the gorgeous boy—now man I loved, inside me.

“Well, now I’m intrigued. How do I sort of not really know you? You don’t look like someone I would have forgotten.”

I shifted my weight uncomfortably, wishing the floor would suddenly open and swallow me up. When that didn't happen, I stiffened my spine and forced myself to stare back and drink him in.

Fuck it. If this was about to be my new most embarrassing adult moment, I might as well go for broke.

“We went to high school together,” I mumbled, hoping he wouldn't notice how breathless I sounded.

“Hmm…” His eyes narrowed, and I fought not to squirm while he likely searched for something to remember me by. If my ego hadn’t already taken a beating this week, I might have been offended. As it was, I didn’t care.

I wasn’t the one who’d been caught about to whip my secretary with my belt. Although damn, I had to admit that kind of kink didn’t exactly turn me off. Sadly, that didn’t outweigh the embarrassment of being in the middle of something I had no business seeing. I needed to get the hell out of there. But how exactly did one go about excusing themselves from the awkward moment of the century?

As if sensing my uncomfortableness he turned to the woman.

“Karen, get up. As I told you before this kind of behavior will not change our outcome.”

“But—” she cried a moment before he cut her off with a warning glare that scared me as much as it did her.

“You know better. I suggest you take this belt back to wherever you got it from and forget about this.” He hesitated for a moment. “I will.”

She suddenly stood up and pulled her skirt down as she wiped her face clear of wetness. “Yes, Sir.”

We both watched as she gathered her things, took the offered belt and after shoving it into her purse, looped it over her shoulder.

“And Karen,” Cyrus started.

She turned and looked back at him.

“No offense to you, darling, but tell your Master I don’t need any more offerings. I can get what I need on my own.”

My mouth dropped open as my mind tried to process the meaning of what he’d just said. She wasn’t his? Is that what that meant? Someone else was her Master?